Naagan Hamaad Akhaba (Naagan Has Joy)

I would say it was a couple years in the making - from the first supporting beams and the corrugated steel roof to the luxurious glass paned windows – but now Naagan Church is complete. It’s actually “Naagan Church” on Sundays for the Christians in this distant goob, but on any other given day you’ll find children running around in their brand new “Naagan/Tirrim Nursery School,” or villagers using it as “Naagan Meeting Hall.” So, as everyone in Naagan is involved with this building in some way, it’s no surprise that most of the goob turned out for the dedication day, including many of us townies.

(Speechifying.)

There’s seems to me to be two distinct types of joy, maybe three. There’s the joy found within oneself – joy in a long worked for accomplishment, joy in a love discovered, joy in one’s life situation. Then there’s the joy of a community – joy in a long worked for cooperate accomplishment or joy in each other’s company. Thirdly, although I’m not so sure how blurry the lines are between the previous two joys and this next one, the joy in God – His goodness, sovereignty... I believe most situations can be classified into one of these three shapes of Joy, and once in a great while, a Joy just overflows into all three at the same time. And this seems to be what happened at Naagan at the dedication of the church.

All the goob elders proudly leaned their backs against the walls, mommas sang and chanted every chance they got, and the “weelal” (children) couldn’t keep their bums on the ground or their faces on the speaker. Communal Joy, Personal Joy, and Divine Joy were indistinguishable as the purpose of the building was stated and proper thanks were given. Before the doors were opened for the first time (although I’ve heard rumors that the kids have been inside, kicking their soccer ball against the newly white-washed walls), an impressive hundred or so people marched around the entire perimeter of the building singing a hymn of thanks, clapping, and smiling ear to ear. Upon entering the hall, a huge circle of women and men formed in the center of the hall; chant leaders in the middle and dancers skipping and bobbing their heads around the outside.

(Marching Mommas)

As I think now, I don’t recall many times observing/being a part of a situation where the three Joys truly collide. It’s an impressive thing when people find the deepest happiness in all parts of their humanity at the same time.

Guinea Fowl Guard Bird

While in Nairobi last week, I found myself staying in sort of a "dodgy" part of town. I mean, I never saw anything bad going down, but I heard stories. Anyways, it was a part of town where it really was prudent to have a night watchman and a guard dog, which this guesthouse had. But the guesthouse also had a guinea fowl guard bird, and the crazy thing is that it's actually really good at it's job.

It makes a sound much like that of Kevin the rainbow bird in the film "Up" - you know, like a cawing and cackling all at the same time. Evidently this guinea fowl will cause a downright ruckus if anything unfamiliar and scary gets into its yard. The time an ambitious mongoose got into the yard, this birdy cornered it in a storm drain and wouldn't quit screaming until someone picked him up and set him aside so they could net the mongoose. I've got no idea what a human intruder would do to a guinea fowl if the bird tried to corner them in a storm drain, but I'm sure it would startle the living daylights out of the person and create a diversion so residents could call the cops.

Mom and Brianna Visiting

(Preface: I know this is several months belated, but for some reason this never actually got posted! Enjoy belatedly.)


Clearly Momma Westwood can’t stay away from Korr – it’s stuck to her like a 2 inch acacia thorn. However, this time the youngest sister Brianna came along too! For weeks we discussed Madame Ann returning to school and what kinds of labs she would do, and we also, to the great interest of the students, discussed what my sister looked like, what she liked to do, and how to spell her name (which they spelled “Brihana” on her beaded bracelet anyways.) They arrived in the same cloud of dust that sent Alicia back to America for her month long furlough, so I had no time to be lonely.

We set right out to school for Mom to see all the kids and for Brianna and I to play some football. The 10 days of their visit were full of school visits for Mom in particular, and cultural experiences for the both of them. One night we walked across town to sleep in Amina’s (my language teacher and Mom’s friend) fabulous Samburu-hut guesthouse. Before the usual delectable dinner spread, we learned how to make mandazis, an African style donut, over a hot coal BBQ. Then, after a lovely chat over the main meal, Brianna and Mom got to experience sleeping in the most luxurious “hut” they’ll probably ever be in. Beds included.

We also got a significant cultural experience, walking out to Nebey with my night watchman to see Soriyo. Now, this was so special because Soriyo happens only 3 times a year and is one of the most respected traditions of the Rendille and one of the main supporting points for the argument that the Rendille are a lost tribe of Israel (an argument in which I have no real basis for an opinion.) Soriyo bears a significant resemblance to Passover. There’s the slaughtering of a perfect goat or sheep by the male head of the household, blood and milk is then spread on the door flap of the hut, a drop of blood is placed on the chest of each male, and then the women cook up the meat and they eat for days. It's a great honor to be invited to watch Soriyo because it is so sacred, and we even came home with a leg of lamb.

(Warriors about to slaughter the sacrificial lamb in front of a min.)


(Hanging out with Abaya's wife and two of his little girls in their min.)

Cultural experience number two was hiking out to Saale to spend the night in a traditional village with Inkoko and my Abiyo. It's a solid 1 1/2 hour trek so poor Brianna had a blister and Mom was so tired she fell asleep against the wall of the min as soon as we sat down. We chatted with the family, saw my brother Somo's camels, handed out photos I'd printed from my last trip out to their goob, and had a late dinner of rice and old Soriyo meat. My sister and I were fortunate enough to get a thin mattress, but because Mom was passed out we decided to leave her flat on the skins. In the morning she said she had pulled her head muscle - I don't think there is such a thing. If not very comfy the experience was very interesting for both of them, and I'm glad they got to see how the Rendille really live.

Ingurinit is a beautiful town at the base of the mountains that hedge the valley in which the Rendille live. It's filled with both Samburu and Rendille people, creating an interesting **** of cultures. There are also some missionary friends who live here and some fabulous "bathtubs" formed in the granite of a riverbed, so this was another stop Brianna and Mom needed to make. We hitched a ride with Amina (mentioned above) who was helping her cousin build some guesthouse mins just like hers. The morning was spent chatting with my friends the Richardsons, discussing if it was in fact safe to hike up to the bathtubs as there was a rumor of an insane lion wandering around, hiking up to the river despite the rumor, and watching Mom splash around a bit in the water which was much to cold for me.

(Mom hitting the slides.)

We then spent some time helping Amina with the building of her hut, really only being skilled enough to fill in the holes for the supporting posts with stones. After only a little work we were offered chai - I don't think we were really needed there. On the truck ride back to Korr, Brianna, Abednego, another one of the Tirrim teachers, and myself sat on the top rack of the truck bed, watching ostriches and dikdiks run out of the path of the vehicle. So, Brianna got a safari anyways.

Two days later, on Tuesday, I loaded Mom and Brianna onto a 6-seater plane and sent them back to Nairobi. I thought it would be easier to say "Goodbye" this time, but, the more normal it becomes to have my family visit, the more difficult it becomes to not have them here. I'm glad Mom got to come back and see her old friends, and I'm glad Brianna got to experience something so far out of the realm of her previous "box," but I didn't much coming back to an empty house.

And so, to ease my loneliness, Ingo and I sat on the couch picking out the "smartest" clothes in the InStyle magazine Brianna left me. (My sister seems to be worried I'll return to the States not just with the stories of a bush missionary, but the clothes of one too.)

Vignettes

Closing School

You could argue all day about which is ultimately better – the American schedule for school, which allows for a 3 month break between grades in the summer, or the Kenyan plan which has 1 month breaks every 3 months. However, there’s no question that it’s mentally and emotionally easier to do it Kenyan style. Saying goodbye for 30 days – suj me (not bad). So T.S.S. closed on the 30^th of July with a lot of cleaning but not a lot of fanfare. The students are all home now, visiting family, watching animals out in the bush, and working on the holiday assignments I handed out.

Blasted Batteries

One doesn’t really think about electricity when you live in the West. Pay your bill, press a switch when you want light, press it again for darkness. Nothing is that simple here. Our solar batteries have gone out, so that means that as soon as the sun goes down there’s an awful beeping noise that begins warning us that the power is caput – as if we wouldn’t notice the lights dimming 3 levels and the outlets going dead. What does one do at night when there’s no internet, barely any light, and no way to plug in the tv to watch movies? Read An Anthology of Christian History to each other of course.

Scorpion Queen

Success! I’ve survived my first scorpion sting!

I was just about to drift off to sleep while staying in the hut of my student Emily at her home in Loglogo. I had shifted my hand across my stomach when all of a sudden I felt a sharp prick, as if my pinky finger had gotten caught on my zipper. However, something inside told me my finger had not scratched my zipper. I yelled, “emily, Emily, EMily, EMILY!!!!!” progressively getting louder as immediate action was not taken on her part in waking up and as I visualized the nasty thing running down my naked shin for another go. Kulamo, who was sleeping on the bed with me got an accidental kick and finally the flashlight was on me and my sweater was coming off for fear of the creature still lurking there. Kulamo tied a head scarf around my wrist to keep the poison from creeping through my veins to my armpit (where the poison seems to collect when one is stung anywhere on the arm.) We searched that whole hut for at least 10 minutes but didn’t find a thing, so I never got a look at the scorpion. However, either it wasn’t very big or it didn’t have good aim because after those 10 minutes the pain wasn’t unbearable like it should have been. Only partly as a joke, Kulamo got a cup of water, took a sip, swished it around a bit, then spit on my stung finger. Clearly, as her mother is of the clan Uruwen, she has the power to help heal scorpion stings by spitting on the stung area. Clearly.

Anyways, I reluctantly laid back down on the bed with the scarf still tied around my wrist, a throbbing finger, and a slightly sore armpit. In the morning, though, I was as right as rain, and pretty proud of myself for checking that one off my list of life experiences.

Catherine

You may remember that we had to send one of our students home for getting pregnant. There’s no such thing as high schools for pregnant teens in Kenya, so this was really the only acceptable action to take culturally and as a form of Christian discipline. We hope very much to see her back in Form One next year, but until then, she’s living with her mom and sister in Loglogo. She was the reason I went there to visit – not necessarily to check up on her, but because I missed her company.

The boy who got her pregnant isn’t marrying her, but rumor has it that he says he’ll give Catherine some money. She’s been given her own hut by a friend, she looks healthy, and even happy.Catherine still participates in youth group activities in church and has even planned a youth choir evangelism trip to the Borana tribe.

I saw her playing with the babies around town, and it’s clear she’ll be a very loving mother. There’s a new stillness about her as you’re apt to find in anyone who’s been hit hard with the reality of life. She’s not young anymore, but there’s a wealth of vitality left in her spirit, praise the Lord.

(From left to right: Emily, me, Naiseku, and Catherine. On my trip to Loglogo.)

What I Eat

These days, there’s no one to cook for at home, so I’ve found myself eating canned fruit straight from the tin and beans the same way. The most inspired meals I have is breakfast with oatmeal with hot water and honey.

Hiking

A few days ago Nambori, Larau, and I hiked out to what we called “Lake Korr.” It’s actually a marsh formed by the torrential rains of April, but all these months it’s still standing about a 2 hour walk from town, down into the valley of Ur (no, I don’t think it’s the same one Abraham lived in.) It lays across some pretty barren sandy desert land as well as a particularly treacherous ancient lava field. Few know of all the evidence here of the centuries old volcanic activity in Northern Kenya. There are large tracts of volcanoes’ black, porous rock and there are dozens of extinct cinder cones randomly jutting out of the generally flat land.

(The guys on the lava rocks.)

I haven’t realized how much I’ve missed large bodies of water while in the desert, but coming upon Lake Korr caused a sensational uplifting of spirits for everyone. Nambori promptly rolled up his trousers and waded into the shallow water, and I just sat down on a rock a foot from shore and let my hem drag in the water while I squished my toes into the mud. There was even a sort of sea breeze blowing cool air off the water and tiny waves that made no splash, but caused the whole lake to glitter. In a rare moment of transparency, Larau told me that he loved it here, that Madame Alicia would too, and that when he was married he would bring his wife here and they would build a home on the shore – I guess that would be if the water is still standing in 7 to 10 years. We all just sat and listened to the Whistling Trees by the banks, watched birds diving for little water buggies, and drank in the luxury of water, some quite literally.

(Splashing around in the water.)

Summer Reading Material

Mom brought a bunch of children’s classics to add to our library at school, and I’ve been pleasurably making my way through all my old favorites. Check out The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Island of the Blue Dolphins, The Giver, and the highly entertaining, A Long Way from Chicago and its sequel A Year Down Yonder.

Goat Milk

You must always boil goat and sheep milk to kill nasty pathogens like brucellosis, so just this evening, I did that. However, I must have boiled it too long or too hot because it started clumping and I had to skim a significant portion out that turned out looking like cheese, which I thought would be OK for salad, but Abaya said it was bad for you. Now it’s sitting in the cats’ food bowl.

English Spelling

I teach a curriculum heavily based off the British, so we use their spelling here in Kenya too. I’m having to get used to sentences like the following:

My favourite colour is red. (So then I bet their favorite letter is “U.”)

The lady was wearing pretty jewellery.

Honour your father and your mother.

Capitalise the first letter of a sentence. (And start using “S”s for the “Z” sound.)

The Amiyo Family

Remember John Baicha Amiyo? The one whose mother, father, and cousin all died within days of each other and whose brother recently married in order to begin helping the family settle their life again. Well, I took a TON of pictures of John’s brother and friends at the wedding, and printed them out for him. Both John and his brother showed up at my house last night just to say “hi,” but I pulled out the photos and they FREAKED OUT!! John was very nearly shaking with excitement, and all his brother kept saying was, “Asante mamen,” which I believe was his pronunciation of “Madame.” John said, “Madame, why did you not just print one?” I replied, “Well because I took a lot of photos and I want them to be a wedding gift. Are you guys happy?” and then he said, “Yes, Madame. Yes.” His brother just kept saying “Asante sana!”

But the best part was when I invited them both to stay with the other boys for a movie night, and John replied, “No Madame, my brother’s wife is waiting for us to come home.” I’m pretty sure he said it just like that.